Calamity Jane
by Fuyumi
Summary: Several years after Hogwarts, Hermione is making a name for herself as an Auror -- but it's not her own. AU
1. Chapter One

**Calamity Jane**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc. This fic is **AU **for the last two books and also for Hermione's middle name since it's been changed from when I first started writing this fic.

**Chapter One**

A hand snatched the morning paper out away from Ron just as he was getting to the good part. "Hey!" he protested. "I was reading that."

"You've been reading the paper for the better part of the last hour, mate," Harry returned evenly. "Time for you to learn how to share."

"Learned all about that while I was growing up. I had five brothers, you know," said Ron.

"Couldn't tell by how you act."

"That's because I learned that I hate it." Ron huffed and crossed his arms. He snorted as Harry tried to hand him a part of the paper back. "Don't bother. I know you're taking the best part."

Harry started to deny it, but he was interrupted by the arrival of their other roommate stomping through the kitchen. "Good morning, Hermione," he called out cheerfully. Hermione merely grunted in his direction, heading straight towards the pot of coffee.

"Morning, Hermione," said Ron. "Nice to see you up early for once."

"Sod off," she said. Hermione opened the cupboards, searching for her coffee mug, though that was a misnomer. Hermione's usual mug was much larger than the norm, and approached the size of a rather large soup bowl. Both Harry and Ron had learned to make sure there was enough coffee left over for Hermione to completely fill up the thing. Facing the wrath of a Hermione who needed her caffeine hit once was enough to last several lifetimes. Neither of them had liked spending the day as a pair of pot-bellied pigs.

Her mug full of that vital substance she needed badly, Hermione returned to the table. She glanced at the paper that Harry was reading. "Anything interesting to report?" she asked. She almost groaned when she saw the grins covering the faces of her best friends at that question.

"Calamity Jane strikes again!" Ron announced triumphantly.

"Fifteen former Death Eaters captured by her in one night."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The boys could be so naïve at times. "I am sure she had help from her partner," Hermione told them, taking the spoon out of her mug and pointing it at them. "And I should know. I'm the only Auror at this breakfast table."

"That's only because you weren't willing to join me and Harry in becoming star Quidditch players," said Ron with a sigh. "And then Harry had to sign with the Magpies rather than the Cannons."

"Get a pair of decent Beaters in, and I'll think about it again," said Harry. "I've seen the bruises you've got from practicing."

"Don't remind me. Got a matching pair yesterday when both of them hit me at once." Harry winced in sympathy, knowing how much that must have hurt.

"I don't know why the two of you insist on playing that ridiculous sport.," said Hermione tersely. The boys looked at one another, knowing that Hermione was on the verge of lecturing them once again.

Some things never change.

"She says that as if being an Auror is a perfectly safe profession," Ron said to Harry before Hermione could continue.

Harry nodded. "I know. Frankly, she shouldn't complain about our professions until she gets one that is a little less dangerous."

"The difference between my job and yours is that I am making the world a safer place. What can you two say about your contributions to society?"

"We're making the world a happier place," Harry said simply. "Don't knock it. The world needs its distractions just as it needs its heroes. And I'm tired of being its hero. Calamity Jane is welcome to take over that role from me."

"Again, I tell you she isn't that great. And why can't you believe me when I say her partner helps her out? They assign Aurors in pairs after all."

"I think someone here is jealous," said Harry.

"Looks like it." Ron regarded Hermione as she fumed in her seat. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you, green is not a good color on you."

"You both are impossible!" Hermione drained her mug in a single gulp and got up. "And I'd best get going." She rose from her seat and pushed back the door. She started to walk out, but thought the better of it, and crossed over to where Harry was sitting. Before he could realize what her intentions were, she had taken the paper out of his unresisting hands.

"Hey! I was reading that!"

"What comes around, goes around," Ron said with a smile.

"Right," Hermione agreed. "Besides, I need this more than you. You can go to the newsagent to get another if you want. I don't have that sort of time." With that, she reached for her wand and Apparated.

"Malfoy, I am going to kill you!" Hermione stormed into the office she shared with her partner. Draco didn't even blink. Death threats from Hermione were common, and so far, she hadn't followed through on a single one, so he wasn't going to worry about it. He didn't even bother to look up from his desk as he knew if he did, he would see an upset Hermione. The first sign of Hermione being mad at him was her using his last name instead of his given one. He actually didn't mind it. It was kind of a turn on.

He was interrupted in his reading by her throwing down a copy of the _Prophet_ on his desk. He smiled to himself. The second sign of Hermione being mad at him was another article about the exploits of Calamity Jane. Looking up, he said, "You know, I think it's me who should be upset with you, Hermione. You're getting all the credit for _my_ hard work."

"Your hard work?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh please. You didn't take out even half of those Death Eaters last night."

"That's because I had to be the decoy as well."

"That does not count as work. Playing the son of a Death Eater turned male prostitute is hardly a stretch for you, Malfoy."

"Touché. Yet, you have to admit that you couldn't have done it without me. So I should get some of the credit, but I doubt I ever will."

Hermione gritted her teeth as she stared him down. "I can live without the credit, thanks. You can have it all back . . . along with that stupid, stupid nickname!"

"Come on now. Be reasonable here. After I learned your middle name was Jane, of course, you had to go by Calamity Jane. You needed a code name anyway, and everyone else seems to like it." He grinned at her unrepentantly.

"If you like it so much, why didn't you take it?" she asked.

"Alas, my parents did not have the foresight to name me Jane."

"Neither did mine."

"Your middle name counts."

"That's what you think." Hermione looked over at his desk, which once again was covered by books on the Old West out in America, over half of which were comics. She sighed. "Haven't I told you before that you're too young to be going through your second childhood already?"

"This isn't my second," he replied shortly. "It's my first. I never got to play much as a child, but on the bright side, it spared my complexion from the ravages of the sun." Hermione scoffed at those words. "And while I'm at it, please spare me the lectures on how Muggles have romanticized the cowboy while portraying Indians in a false light. You clearly do not understand the whole—"

"No, I don't," Hermione said. She sat down at her desk. "And I'd have never bothered with the lecture if you didn't come up with that . . . that damn code name of mine."

"Well, you got me back by ruining the name, 'Billy the Kid,' for me. I could have lived happily without ever knowing about Aberforth and his goat.

"Thinking about it, I realize that I shouldn't have told you that story then."

"Damn right you shouldn't have."

Hermione smiled wickedly. "I ought to have waited until after that name was finalized for you before letting you know about the love Aberforth had for his goat."

Draco winced. "You're in an especially foul mood this morning. What's got your knickers into a twist?"

"Three guesses, and the first two don't count."

"I don't need any. I'm willing to bet your two biggest fans were raving about you again."

"Yes. And I was about ready to wring their necks if they didn't stop! And you know what?"

"What?" Draco prompted.

"They were accusing _me_ of being jealous of myself! Can you believe the gall of those two?"

"Well, I've always said that you ought to let them know that Keepers and Seekers aren't supposed to catch Bludgers, that they're supposed to go after the other balls. Those two already have taken enough blows to the head." He suddenly ducked, and sure enough, Hermione had lobbed her inkwell at him. Again. "You know, that could have really hurt if it hit me," he told her.

"That was the whole point. You were being impossible again, and I am fed _up_ with impossible men!" She stamped her foot for emphasis.

"Hey! At least I'm the man responsible for making you famous."

"I live with the most famous wizard in the world. We get enough reporters around our flat as it is. And besides, I'm not famous, Calamity Jane is."

"But you are Calamity Jane and so—" He stopped when he saw the look that Hermione gave him. Clearly, she wasn't in a good mood this morning, and he wondered if those gits she lived with had sucked up all her coffee again. You would think that they would have learned their lesson by now. "Fine, fine. I'll stop." Draco held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "And to make it up to you, I'll give you your birthday present now." He withdrew a small, heavy box from the confines of his desk. "It took me forever to find this."

She eyed it suspiciously. "I knew I should have brought a Sneakoscope in today. What's it going to do to me when I open it?"

"Hermione, do I look like I'd play a prank like that on my partner?"

"Yes. And you have."

He coughed. He had actually, several times. "But on her birthday?"

"It's not my birthday yet," she replied.

"Fine, fine. Here." He carefully took off the top of the box, revealing a pair of pearl-inlaid, silver pistols. "See?" he said with a grin. "A perfect gift for Calamity Jane."

Hermione walked over to the desk, not believing her eyes. She gingerly picked one up. It was real, and she had to suppress the urge to moan out of despair. "Merlin, Malfoy. Please tell me you got these legally."

"Would I have black market connections?" was his response.

"If I remember correctly, your best informants are certain businessmen with shady pasts, so yes."

"Fine, curse your perfect recall. Would I buy something illegally?"

"What about that pink elephant you tried to bring to Malfoy Manor?"

"You wound me. That was a nasty story made up by that Skeeter broad to embarrass me. You should know that I wouldn't do anything to get you into trouble."

"How about the time when you blew my cover? In front of Crabbe and Goyle, no less."

He shrugged. "Have to do that occasionally to maintain my credibility in front of my former compatriots. I would have clued you in, but then your reaction wouldn't have been as genuine." He then winked at her. "Besides, it was fun getting to watch you beat the living daylights out of them."

"You're lucky I stopped at them. I ought to have kicked your arse for good measure. It would've helped you maintain that credibility you're always talking about," said Hermione, crossing her arms.

"Okay, I can tell someone is still sore about that incident. But to answer your original question, these are legal." He beamed at her. "I've even signed you up for lessons. Can't have our Calamity Jane shooting off her own foot."

"That's assuming I ever use them." She sighed. "Thanks for the gift though."

"Don't mention it."

"I probably won't ever again," Hermione noted. "But enough of this small talk. Anything new for us to handle?"

"Yes," Draco said slowly.

Hermione waved him on. When he didn't speak, she knew she wasn't going to like their latest case. She frowned and said, "You might as well tell me. The sooner we get it over with, the better."

"You don't know how true that is." He sighed. "Muggle Relations sent this one over to us. There's been a new drug on the Muggle club circuit . . . and they suspect it's a love potion in surprise."

Hermione cursed fluently, which would have surprised her roommates, but then many things about her would do that. "That's rape, and those poor girls don't even have a chance to fight back," she said, once she had finished.

"I know. So far, there's no evidence of it being sold to Muggles for their use so we're only looking for a wizard or a group of wizards."

"Lovely. That narrows it down to about half the population of the Wizarding world. Are there any striking aspects to the M.O.?"

"Not that I can tell from the file, but we probably should interview the witnesses ourselves. The only thing noticeable is that they hit all the trendiest clubs. It hasn't happened at any of the shadier ones, like you would think," Draco said. "So I'm guessing whoever it is knows the club circuit well."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe it is a Muggle-born, but it would have to be a very rich one high up in society to know all the in clubs. Most people read the gossip columns to know what's hot this week. I think it's just as likely that someone gets the club names from the paper. We should check to see when the clubs that have been hit have been mentioned in the local papers . . . maybe that could give us a clue."

"Split up the work?" Draco offered. "I'll do the research, you talk to the witnesses?"

"Deal." And with that, the two of them were gathering their things, both of them needing to solve this case before the criminal struck again.

**Author's note:** Yes, I know. A new WIP is the last thing I need. But this is what came to my mind once I learned what Hermione's middle name is. Anyway, I hope everyone liked it, and I'd appreciate it if you could let me know what you think by leaving a review. Thanks!


	2. Chapter Two

**Calamity Jane**  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.

**Chapter Two**

Almost twelve hours later, Hermione found herself trudging up the stairs to her flat. It had been a bloody, awful day. She should have known that once she had seen that article. To top things off, she hadn't even interviewed a third of the witnesses that her Muggle counterparts had dug up. Hermione sighed. It was no wonder why they were frustrated. There were no descriptions to be had on the criminal – all anyone could agree on was that he was young, above average height, and hot, very hot. Not even any of the victims' friends shed any additional light into how he looked, making Hermione think that he was using some sort of glamour to conceal his identity. That would make sense, as he would need it given how often he struck. The weekend was only a couple days away, and Hermione knew there would be fresh victims on Monday if they didn't find him before then.

And that made her angry. Very angry.

It scared her, sometimes, how angry she could get. She didn't know when it started, just some time during their last couple of years at Hogwarts. She would suddenly be swept away by a wave of anger, so intense, so painful that she could hardly see, could hardly breathe, could hardly think beyond the fact that she needed to throttle someone desperately for what had been done to her. She didn't understand it at all. If one thought about it, she got off rather lightly during those years. Her parents were still alive, and she was never that seriously injured. She didn't have any siblings to lose like Ron, and she wasn't the main target for Voldemort and his Death Eaters like Harry. Perhaps she was angry that about the fact that their chances for a normal childhood had been swept away for no reason at all. That was the best explanation she had come up with for her fury.

It helped though when she went after Death Eaters. Once she got over the initial swell of anger, she found herself better able to focus on how best to rid the world of another bunch of Death Eaters. When she found that calm in the middle of her fury, she thought more clearly, could react more quickly. Yet though it was useful in her profession, she worried that she was somehow broken and would never be whole again.

Hermione fumbled for her keys as she approached the door. Thinking about it did no good. There was no one else she felt comfortable with talking about it. She didn't want to scare her parents, Harry and Ron wouldn't understand, and Draco never took anything seriously. The best thing for her to do was to live with it. Well, perhaps that wasn't the best thing for her to do, but it was the only acceptable alternative she had in front of her. She wasn't ready to commit herself to St. Mungo's just yet. She picked up her pace, eager to get inside so she could try and relax.

A faint sound of mewing made Hermione look down. She swore bitterly. Crookshanks had struck again. Ever since she had left Hogwarts, Crookshanks had become quite the feline stud, and somehow, she had always wound up with the kittens to give away. It was getting to be ridiculous. Every couple of months, without fail, there would be a new batch of orange kittens waiting for her at the door. Her cat was notorious in their neighborhood, and so everyone knew who to blame when a female cat had a litter of large, orange kittens. Hence, everyone knew who to dump the kittens on, as soon they could get the kittens away from their cat. Especially as Hermione would make sure that they got taken care of.

It was a crime, if you asked her, to drown a cat. However, it was not a crime to neuter one and it was way past time for Crookshanks to go under the knife. If she could catch him. That was another thing that made no sense. She could catch Death Eaters with ease, but her cat always managed to evade capture when she was going to take him in to the vet.

Picking up the basket of kittens, Hermione opened the door and entered her flat. She walked into the kitchen, setting down the basket on the table, taking care to place a charm on the table to keep them there. The kittens were already strong enough to be walking, and they were certain to be a handful within a matter of days. She sighed. It was going to be hard to find time for them to get their shots before then, assuming that they were old enough. And she couldn't give them away without doing so. It wouldn't be right. A flash of orange caught her eye, and Hermione recognized her cat as he tried to sneak his way out of the kitchen.

"Crookshanks . . ." she started to say, but he quickly dashed away. She followed after him, intent on getting him this time. Hermione knew her cat was intelligent enough to know the consequences of his actions, but like a typical cat, he did not care. Fortunately, Hermione knew of a vet that would be open for another hour. Now was as good a time as any to fix that damn cat.

Quietly entering the living room, she spotted Crookshanks hiding under the table. "Come here, you!" she said, crouching down on her knees and trying to grab him. She howled in pain as he used his claws on her, giving him room to escape. "That. Is. It!" she declared. She whipped out her wand. "I didn't want to do this, as I didn't think it fair, but you leave me no choice. _Petrificus Totalus!_" Her aim true, Crookshanks was frozen in place in front of the sofa. "Finally," she said, putting her wand back in place. However, before she could reach the cat, someone beat her to picking him up.

"Hermione! What are you thinking?" Ron scolded her. "Using a spell like that on a poor, defenseless animal."

"He's hardly defenseless, Ron. He's the reigning tom of the neighborhood. The way he's going, all of England is going to be populated with kneazle-cat mixes within a couple of years."

"True," said Ron. Then he looked at Hermione, or rather behind her. "More kittens, I take it?"

"Yeah. They're in the kitchen."

"Lovely. Haven't I told you before not to leave them there? Too liable to work their way into the tuna."

"They're not six weeks old yet, from the look of them, so I doubt they've figured out how to open tinned food."

"These are Crookshanks' kittens, Hermione. You should know better." Ron regarded the cat in his arms. "And it's not right, what you're planning to do with him."

"Hey! It's me who has to deal with the consequences of his . . . escapades."

"We have to have a bit of male solidarity in this house, don't we, Crookshanks?" Ron cast the counter spell, setting the cat free, who scratched him in his eagerness to get away. "Ow! Is that any way to treat your rescuer?" Ron asked as Crookshanks ran off.

"Thanks so much for that, Ron. Maybe I should let you deal with this batch of kittens?"

"Would you?" Her friend's eyes lit up, and Hermione suppressed a groan. It turned out that while Ron wasn't on the best of terms with Crookshanks, he absolutely adored kittens. Which was just as well, considering that his girlfriend kept several cats. "I can find homes for them, just you wait and see. I think Luna wants a new kitten anyway. Hmm . . . maybe I can convince her to take two."

"What's all this fuss about?" asked Harry as he entered the room.

"Hermione was trying to unman her cat again," Ron told him.

"No wonder why Hermione's so jealous of Calamity Jane. Here Jane is catching Death Eaters left and right, while Hermione can't even corner her cat," Harry said, smirking.

"Harry!" Hermione whirled around to confront him. "I'll have you know that he was a minute away from the knife before someone here decided to interfere."

"And it's a good thing I did. That's a cruel thing to do to any male creature. And you didn't play fair as you used a spell on him."

"I wouldn't do it if he could control his proclivities," Hermione snarled.

"Now, now, Hermione. There's no need to go Jane-ish on Ron. I would think that you'd be happy to see them reaching some sort of accord." Harry threw a wink at her, before continuing on to sit at the couch and flip on the tellie. Sometimes, Hermione wondered about Harry and whether he knew. She didn't think that she had ever given any hints about what she went by in the department . . . and certainly, neither of her best friends knew her middle name or at least they had never asked. But sometimes, she wondered about what Harry knew. If he really wanted to find out who Jane was, Hermione was positive that the Boy-Who-Lived could find someone to tell him the truth.

Hermione hoped that wasn't the case. It was bad enough that her roommates were unknowingly her biggest fans. She'd feel like the biggest fool of all if they knew they were _her_ fans, while she thought her identity was a secret.

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When her partner walked in clad in a T-shirt and a tight-fitting pair of jeans, Hermione vowed once again to hunt down the person who had introduced Draco to Muggle clothing. He looked entirely too good in them to believe – and he knew it.

That was _so _unattractive in a man.

Then she read the slogan on his shirt, and she decided to go after him instead.

"'Will accept pity sex'?" she read aloud. "Malfoy, that is disgusting."

"What?" He shrugged his shoulders, somehow managing to look even sexier while doing so. "Oh, the shirt?" He smiled smugly. "Are you offering?"

"Hell no. Though I know you don't need any offers. I am sure that Millicent Bulstrode would be _happy_ to comfort you."

"Ugh. I believe my shirt says that I'll accept pity sex, not that I'll dole it out."

"That's horrible."

"A bloke has to have some standards."

"And while Parkinson is good enough for a shag, Bulstrode is not?"

"Hermione, she's scarier than Crabbe and Goyle combined."

"Draco, _I'm _scarier than Crabbe and Goyle combined. Yet you still come to work everyday."

"That's because you look better than them too."

"That is _not_ a compliment." Hermione crossed her arms. Not that she cared what Draco thought of her looks, but still. She didn't want to think that anyone thought she looked like a man.

"True, true. Especially for a witch as lovely as you." He blew a kiss in her direction.

"Thankfully, I'm immune to your charms."

"Are you?" he asked, quirking one elegant eyebrow. All of a sudden and so swiftly that she didn't even register movement, he was in front of her, their noses slightly touching. Unfortunately for him and for any plans of seduction that he might have, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes. Almost without thinking, she punched him in his gut, sending him reeling backwards. "Argh!" he cried. "Hermione! There was no need to do that. I wasn't going to hurt you."

"You startled me," she said simply. "I don't take well to being startled."

"I will endeavor to remember that in the future," he said, between great gasps of breaths. "Though it's a shame. Surprises can be such fun."

"I'll take your word for it." Hermione sighed to herself. Truthfully, she hadn't meant to hurt him, but he should have known that she was wound up tight lately. Surprising her like that was never a good idea. "And doesn't the Muggle clothing wreak havoc with your carefully crafted persona?" she asked.

"Actually, this is another one for our current case," he told her.

"Another one?" It was shocking how easily he could switch parts when needed. It was one of the things that made them such a dynamic pair of Aurors. While she knew spells better than almost anyone on the planet, he could assume an undercover role with an ease that twenty-year veterans didn't have. "I'm surprised you don't have more trouble keeping track of all of them."

"I'm not. I've never had much of myself to lose," he said seriously. "I was always concerned with being what people wanted me to be . . . so it's not so different now."

"I see." She didn't know how to respond to that. It was sad to hear that, but she didn't think that he would want her pity . . . . Damn! That bastard. Hermione realized what he had been plotting with that comment. "Malfoy, I believe I've already told you that I'm immune to your charms," she said.

"Yes, I know, and it appears to be true." He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Undoubtedly, that is why they paired me up with you."

"So did you find out anything yesterday?"

"Anything aside from the fact that Muggles have too many newspapers? No," he said. "Did you?"

"Precious little." She got up from her desk, her notebook in hand. "There's not much of a description to go on as all anyone can say is that he's young, kind of tall, and hot."

"Even the bartenders?" Draco asked.

"Even them. I had thought they'd have a different perspective but . . . well, he's probably been using a glamour."

"That's one thing that helps us then," said Draco. "Whoever it is not only got an Owl in Charms, but went on to take advanced course. He probably passed his N.E.W.T. in Charms as well."

Hermione nodded. "I've already sent to Hogwarts for a list of wizards who did that. I don't suspect that it will be a small list, but it's something."

"Any word on how the lab is going on the exact composition of the love potion he uses?"

"It's going to take some time. I spoke with them earlier, and apparently it's a complicated one."

"Which probably means he got an Owl in Potions as well. Did you get that list?"

"No, I didn't think of it," Hermione admitted. "Could you . . . ?"

"Ask Snape for it? Of course. Though he'd give the list to you, especially for a case like this," said Draco.

"I know. But I'd rather not have to ask him for anything if I can help it. Too many bad memories of sarcastic remarks from him while at Hogwarts," she said.

"Not that you Gryffindors didn't give him a hard time in return," said Draco.

"We did not!"

"Fine, fine. I don't feel like debating that right now." He looked at her critically, noting the bags under her eyes. "How about we switch roles today?" he offered. "You can do the research, while I do the interviews."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Some of those girls . . . well, it's still very recent for them. I don't think they'd be very comfortable with . . . and someone might . . . . . " Her voice trailed off, as she wondered if she should continue that thought. Well, since she started to say it anyway, she might as well finish it. "And I hate to say it, but someone in the case might look at you and think that it's you. Because the description is vague enough that you fit into it. And your family's reputation is such that . . . ."

Draco clenched his jaw and leaned back in his seat. "Do you think that I . . .?"

"No. Don't be ridiculous." Hermione shook her head violently. "I know you better than that. You wouldn't do that. I only . . . I only said that to warn you, that's all. That it might be better to let me handle the public side of the case."

"Thanks," he said. "But I think I could have seen that coming." He sighed. "But I could use your help in the research department. Like I said before, there are too many newspapers out there to cover."

"But I really ought to go and interview—"

"I doubt you'll get much more out of them." He rose from his seat and crossed the room. He hoisted himself on to her desk before continuing. "You did say that he was using a glamour. They're Muggles. They can't be expected to see through that. If it was powerful enough, even a trained wizard would have problems seeing what lay beneath."

Hermione bit her lip. On one hand, she didn't know if she could stand another day full of those painful interviews . . . and they did have the Muggle police's notes to go from. On the other hand, however, she had a duty and she couldn't very well shirk it.

"And you would not be derelict in your duties if you helped me," said Draco. He wagged his finger in front of her. "I know that was what you were thinking. We haven't been partners for the last five years for me not to learn something about your thought processes. Our best bet is to figure out what newspapers he's been hitting so we know what clubs to cover this weekend."

She considered what her partner was saying. What she wanted to do was to find some clue that would break the case wide open, but she knew the chances of that was almost nil. He was right. The most likely way they would find the perpetrator was for them to cover the club he was planning to strike at next time. And without a doubt there would be a next time. He had no reason to stop.

"Fine," she said, rising from her chair. "Let's go. Have you ordered all the papers to come here or do we have to—"

"We get to visit your favorite place, Hermione," Draco said grandly, as if conferring a favor. "And read them there until we do get copies."

She shook her head at him and his antics, as she gathered her scarf, wrapping it around her to ward off the morning's chill. Together they walked out of their office and made their way to the nearest Muggle library to comb through the papers. Hermione quickly checked to see if any computers were free. When she saw there were none, she returned to the table where Draco had gathered a large assortment of available newspapers for them to peruse. As Hermione painfully flipped though the sheets to read through each one, she wished once again that computers would function better in the Wizarding world. It would be so much easier to turn on a computer in their office and use a search engine on all these articles instead of having to go through them by hand. That would even be easier than bringing all the papers to their office and using a finding charm; certainly, it required less effort. Hermione had not been able to determine precisely why Muggle devices didn't function too well in the Wizarding world; it had something to do with magical fields interfering with electrical fields, which went way over her head. Magical theory she could understand, but she had stopped her Muggle schooling at a young enough age that her grasp of physics was very basic indeed. It didn't matter in any case. It took a great deal of magic to shield a computer from such interference, especially as it required several shields in place, and so their department had none. And it was likely it would never have a single computer while Moody remained in charge. That man was suspicious of anything and everything new.

As if thinking of him was enough to summon him, Moody appeared at their desk, wearing the most outrageous pair of Bermuda shorts she had ever seen, a little over an hour after they had arrived. She could sense the familiar sensation of a privacy shield dropping into place around them. Hermione looked Moody up and down, before saying, "If I had known you were going to drop by to brighten our day, I would have brought a pair of sunglasses."

"Make that two, Hermione," Draco put in.

"Enough with that, the both of you," Moody said gruffly. "I am your boss, you ought to remember."

"What brings you here?" Hermione asked. "Care to help us research?"

"Not bloody likely. I'm here to drop another case on you," he stated.

"Another one?" Hermione said.

"Don't we have enough already?" Draco complained.

"This one should interest you personally, Granger," he said.

"Oh? What is it?"

"There's a plot to kill Harry Potter."

"That's news?" asked Draco.

"Tell me something I don't know," said Hermione. "There's always some plot or other to kill Harry. The poor boy's been having to live with that for all his life."

"I thought you would be more excited considering that it's your best friend's life that is at stake."

Hermione put down the paper she was reading to stare Moody in the eyes. "You cannot honestly expect me to believe that this is a serious threat," she scoffed. "They've all failed miserably in the past, and all we've had to do is be there to arrest the idiots who made the attempt. And I've told you time and time again that the best way to deal with such plots is to let Harry know so he can do what he does best."

"That's not an appropriate attitude for an Auror, Granger," Moody reprimanded her. "Potter is a civilian. Don't forget that. He had the choice to join us, but told us—"

"He told you where you could stick your offer," Hermione said, fondly recalling that exchange. After too many years of being manipulated by those older than he who thought they knew better, Harry had been none to eager to sign up for an entire life of the same. While Moody hadn't been the instigator of any of Dumbledore's plans to protect Harry, he was involved in them far too often for Harry to trust him.

"Right," said Moody. "Be that as it may, we still have a clear duty to protect him, whether he likes it or not."

"Fine, fine. I'll keep an eye on him. I doubt I'll get to the assassin before he does, but I'll watch him when we're together."

"You're being too flippant, Granger. Obviously, you've been hanging around Malfoy for too long."

"Hey! Don't blame her attitude on me!" Draco protested.

"Why not?" Hermione asked playfully, batting her eyelashes at her partner. "I used to be a sweet, innocent girl until you came around to corrupt me." She was surprised and gratified to see his jaw hang open. And was that a blush appearing on his cheeks? She hadn't known he was capable of blushing.

"Enough of that, Granger, Malfoy. Do I have to remind you that there's no fraternizing between Aurors? You may be our best team, but you'll be split up if I have the slightest suspicion that—"

"Don't worry, Moody. I'm not about to challenge Bulstrode for his skinny arse," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Hermione! Merlin, what an awful image!" Draco thumped his head against the table at her words, as though in pain.

"And here I thought you had more taste than that, Malfoy," Moody said, matching Hermione's smirk with one of his own.

"I do not want to be part of this conversation any longer." Draco looked up and glared at the other two Aurors.

"Have it your way, Malfoy. This concerns Hermione more than it does you, in any case. Though you might want to be around so you can cover your partner's back."

His words set a chill down Hermione's spine. "Okay, Moody. Spill. Is there some reason why you think that this threat is particularly dangerous to Harry . . . and us?"

"Yeah. Do you know who escaped from Azkaban this morning?"

"There was an escape?" Hermione was surprised she hadn't heard that sort of news earlier. Surely, if that were true, they would have been called in first thing to deal with that.

"Yeah, though we're trying to keep it secret. Don't want to alarm the general public." Hermione frowned. She couldn't find it in herself to agree with that philosophy. She understood what Moody was saying about not wanting to cause a panic, but people deserved to know what had happened. "Especially when we know who the main target is going to be, as the convict has a grudge against Potter," Moody went on.

"Will you stop with the dramatics and just tell us who it is?" Draco demanded.

"Lestrange."

The color drained from Hermione's face. "Which one?" she asked in a small voice.

"Bellatrix, of course."

"Damn it!" Draco rose from his chair, his face twisted up in rage. "Fuck you, Moody, for not telling me sooner." He slammed his fist on the table. "You ought to have told me first thing! Before anyone else!"

"Why?" Moody asked. "It's Granger's friend who is the one at risk. And you might take note that she's not yelling at her superior."

"Potter's able to take care of himself. My mother's not."

Hermione gasped. That was right. Narcissa and Bellatrix were sisters . . . but as crazy as Bellatrix Lestrange was, Hermione couldn't believe she would go after her sister. Not when Harry was a much more tempting target.

"What makes you think your mother's at risk, Malfoy?"

"Because dear Aunt Bella hates me and would kill Mum just out of spite for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. Now." Pulling out his wand, he marched into the stacks, soon after which Hermione heard the soft whoosh of an Apparation spell.

"I think I should follow him," said Hermione. She didn't want Draco to go up against his aunt alone. She wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. Then she looked down at the table, which was still strewn with newspapers. There was still a lot of work to be done here as well. Hermione was torn between following Draco and remaining here to finish the job they had come to do.

"Grunts can do this work, Hermione," Moody said roughly. "Let me know what you're looking for, and I'll get a bunch of trainees to do this for you. Capturing Lestrange is a priority. Though I would prefer if you checked in with Potter, rather than following Malfoy. He can take care of any attempt of his mother to aid his aunt better on his own."

Hermione glared coldly at Moody. "I don't think that was his primary concern. He said as much himself."

"Of course he said that in front of me. He doesn't want me to officially know his mother's sympathies, though that wouldn't affect what I think of him."

"And here I thought you were suspicious of everyone," Hermione muttered.

"I am. That includes both you and your erstwhile partner. Now get yourself down to the field where the Magpies practice. Make up some reason to see Potter. I don't care what, just do it. And that's a direct order, so don't try to ignore it."

"Fine," Hermione said. She quickly scribbled down some notes for Moody, so he could see that someone else continued their research here. When that was finished, she strode off towards the loo so she could Apparate. Hermione figured that she could check in with Harry before continuing on to Malfoy Manor to make sure her partner wasn't in trouble. For regardless of what Moody thought, Harry was able to take care of himself if you simply told him what was going on. As for Draco, however, Hermione didn't know if he could fight his aunt the way she needed to be fought.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been waiting for a second chance to go at Bellatrix. This time, she wasn't going to go down so easily.

Once at the practice pitch that was home to the Magpies, Hermione briefly considered bypassing security. While the Magpies' security was extolled as the best in the entire league, she didn't think much of it. There was one time, soon after she and Draco had first become partners, when they had to break through it to get to Harry because of another assassination attempt that their department had uncovered. It had taken only a few minutes before they had made their way past through the brunt of the Magpies' security. And that was when they were little better than rookies.

Deciding that now was not the time to show the Magpies just how weak their guards were, she stopped at the gate and flashed her badge. She regretted her decision then as the arsehole at the gate took his time in checking her credentials, squinting suspiciously at her badge as if it were a fake. He was costing her valuable time, time that she needed desperately. She was about to bite off a sharp remark about how she was going to haul his arse in for obstruction (of what, she'd figure out later), when she caught sight of her best friend as he made his exit for lunch.

"Harry!" She waved at him. "Over here!" The guard grunted at her, saying something about leaving famous Harry Potter alone, but she ignored him. Obviously he was not worth her time if he couldn't even put two and two together, and figure out that she was one of Harry's best friends. Hearing her voice, Harry trotted over to where she stood.

"It's all right," he told the guard. "She's my friend. My best friend in fact." Harry took a moment to look at Hermione, who appeared to be steaming mad. "And I know she's an Auror. I wouldn't stop her next time, if you know what's good for you," he told the guard.

"I'm not afraid of a tiny bird like her," was the reply Harry received. Harry quickly stepped away from the man, fully expecting an array of hexes to come from Hermione, but she merely smiled.

"I'll get him next time." Hermione winked at Harry. "More time to think of unusual curses, whose counters aren't that well-known."

"So come to treat me to lunch?" Harry asked as they walked side by side.

"I wish." Hermione sighed. "But this visit is business, not pleasure."

"Let me guess. Someone else is out to kill me, and since Moody is a paranoid son of a bitch, he sent you to warn me."

Despite the situation, Hermione found herself grinning ruefully. "This has happened too many times before, hasn't it?"

"It has. I think the best time was when you walked in on me casting _Stupefy_ on a pair of them. You were a little late then."

"I know, I know. I've told him that we should just owl you, out of courtesy, and then get out of your way . . . but will he listen to me?"

"No. Because—" Harry deepened his voice in a passable imitation of Moody. "We can't trust a civilian to take care of himself."

"Not even if that civilian happens to be the most powerful wizard in the world," Hermione added.

Harry hung his head bashfully. Hermione was struck at how he could remain so modest, after defeating Voldemort and his personal guard single-handedly. Heck, he was modest when it came to his skill at playing Quidditch, though he was widely recognized as the best Seeker in all of England. "I don't know about that," said Harry. "Dumbledore's still around. Then there's you. You know loads more spells than I do."

Hermione blushed at the compliment. You would think that by now she would have learned to take them with grace, but she hadn't. Especially one such as that as she knew she didn't deserve it. She was no where near as good at magic as Harry. She had to read books and study theory in order to improve. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to know magic instinctively, as if he were merely remembered something he had learned before. She remained astounded at the fact that he had managed to produce a _Patronus_ at such a young age. Truly, there had never been a wizard quite like Harry Potter.

"I'm not that good," she wound up saying.

"Yes, you are," he said. "And you should know it. But is there anything else I should know, aside from the fact someone's out to get me again? And if not, care to let me treat you to lunch?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. I have to make sure that Draco is okay," she said.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I thought he was able to take care of himself."

"He is . . . normally. But this is a special case."

"Considering that it's my life at stake, care to tell me why?"

"Because a former Death Eater has escaped from Azkaban, that's why."

"Another one?" Harry gaped in disbelief. "That's the fifth this year. Why don't they just install a revolving door down there? That might keep them in better. Some of them are bound to get confused on the way out and go back in."

"I know. And this is all off the record. Moody doesn't want the public to know."

"Why? Because he's afraid of another burst of public outrage at how easy it's become to break out of Azkaban ever since they've chucked the Dementors?"

"You know it. I don't agree with his policy, but on the other hand, I don't want any idiots to suggest that we bring those things back. I'd rather have to hunt down former prisoners every week than know those things are living so near to us."

"I hardly think they _live_, Hermione," said Harry. Then he stopped in his tracks. "It's Bellatrix, isn't it?" he said, his face hardening. Hermione nodded, shaken by the sudden change in his aura. Sometimes, it was easy for her to forget, amidst all the conversations and jokes they had each day, how deadly Harry could be when he made up his mind to be so. She supposed that Bellatrix Lestrange would be lucky if Hermione got to her first. Her grudge wasn't as strong as Harry's. But then, she hadn't been as close to Sirius as Harry had been.

"What makes you think Malfoy's in trouble?" Harry asked, breaking the flow of her concentration.

"He seems to believe that his mother will be a prime target for her. He said something about his aunt hating him and—"

"If she hates him, then he's right. That's the sort of witch Bellatrix is. Which is good. It's nice that she's predictable in some ways as that makes it easier to track her down."

"Harry," Hermione said reproachfully. "That's not your job."

"No, it's not. And I am glad that I'm not an Auror, as I don't know how I'd manage taking orders from Moody and his ilk. But I am entitled to defend myself against attackers." Harry smirked. "If she comes after me, she'll live to regret it."

"You won't—"

"I won't try and find her, and I won't use an Unforgiveable, if that's what you're worried about, Hermione. I'm not like your boss." His tone was sharp, making Hermione wince at his words.

"I don't use them either, and neither does Draco," she said quickly.

"I know, but I also know that authorization stands. Though I suppose I can hardly complain, otherwise I'd have been in trouble after that last fight. In any case, you'd better get to Malfoy. And I'd better warn security." Harry turned around and walked back the way they came.

"Why?" Hermione called out after him. "Do they have new measures to guard against—"

"No," Harry said flatly. "To let them know to get out of her way if they see her coming. I can take care of her. They can't. And I'll be damned if I let her kill anyone else while I'm around."

After checking to see if there were any Muggles around, Hermione Apparated and arrived right outside Malfoy Manor. She made her way in, holding back a smile at the thought that a Muggle-born witch was now allowed free access to the ancestral seat of the Malfoys. Narcissa Malfoy had opposed the wards being altered to include her amongst those who were welcomed there, but she had been overruled by her son, who was the current lord of the manor after the death of his father. Yet though Hermione could visit at any time, Narcissa was never polite to her. The best Hermione could hope for was for Draco's mother to ignore her. There had been a couple times when Hermione had used a silencing charm on the woman, because she was afraid she would seriously injure her partner's mum if she had to continue to take such verbal abuse.

Cautiously proceeding inside, she gripped her wand in her right hand, just in case she needed it. It paid to be careful when a Death Eater of Bellatrix Lestrange's stature was around. Sirius hadn't been, and he had paid the ultimate price. Finding the entrance hall empty, she walked further in, her eyes constantly darting to the side, checking to see if there was anyone hiding in the shadows. When she reached the main hall, Hermione felt her knees almost give out from under her.

They had been too late.

Rushing forward, she quickly covered the distance that separated her and her partner. Draco was knelt down beside his mother's body, tears looming in his eyes. He looked up as Hermione reached him and said in a shaky voice, "She's not dead."

Hermione bent down beside him and checked his mother's wrist. There was a pulse. She wasn't dead. But at the same time, she wasn't all right. Bellatrix must have done something to her. "May I?" Hermione asked, holding her wand over Narcissa's body.

"Go ahead," said Draco. "See if you can find any hints as to what that bitch did to her. I had no luck."

With a flick of her wand, Hermione cast a reveal charming, which brought the magic that chained Narcissa's body to light. She bit her lip, not liking the pattern she saw. This wasn't good news at all.

"I can tell it's some sort of binding spell," Draco was babbling beside her. "But beyond that, it makes no sense at all to me."

"It is a binding spell," Hermione said slowly.

"And? What else?" When she didn't answer quickly enough, he shook her. "Hermione! What else is it!"

"It's a binding spell," she repeated. "It binds her life to the caster." Draco turned white at those words. "If the caster dies, she does. If the caster wants her to die, she will."

"That bitch!" Draco stood up all of a sudden and began pacing around. "How the fuck could she do such a thing to her sister! If she hates me, she should try to kill me, not her!" Hermione could only watch as her partner worked himself up into a fury. She knew that after they left here, she would be visiting her parents and seeing that they were safely tucked away. If she didn't, she wouldn't be able to sleep at night for worrying. It was upsetting to learn that your opponent had no morals and would take violent action against those unable to defend themselves. Hermione supposed she had known that all along, but that had only been intellectually. What had happened to Narcissa brought home the reality of it all painfully.

Then a woman's shrill laughter filled the air. Both Hermione and Draco spun around, their hands automatically going to their wands. "Like my handiwork, ickle Drakey?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked him.

"Don't!" Hermione threw out a hand to stop his charge. "She's not really here. It's just a spell to project her image."

"To taunt me, I see," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Oh!" Bellatrix clasped her hands together in front of her. "We have a smart Mudblood here. Not smart enough to leave well enough alone the affairs of her betters though. Too bad for you." She switched her attention back to her nephew. "But you couldn't even protect dear Cissy. What makes you think you can protect your little Mudblood slut?"

Her body shaking with anger, Hermione reined her first impulse to throttle the self-righteous bitch. How dare Lestrange call her that when everyone knew she had been Voldemort's slut? But Hermione knew how to get at Bellatrix. She wasn't here now, but there was a spell that could fix that. Taking her chance while Bellatrix was focused on Draco, Hermione pointed her wand at the image and said, "_Reverse—_"

At the sound of her voice, Bellatrix's head whipped around. "I don't think so," she snarled before disappearing. Hermione swore as she saw that she had lost her chance, furious that she hadn't been more careful in her actions. She should have known better than to shout the spell. She should have whispered it instead.

"What was that about?" Draco asked her.

"I was going to use a sort of summoning spell on her. She left a bit of her magic here so she could project her image here after you found your mother like that," Hermione explained. "That magic is linked to her because it's her own, and I was going to take advantage of that link to bring her here." Hermione scowled. "I should've known better than to be so reckless. If I hadn't—"

"It's just as well, Hermione," said Draco. "We couldn't kill her anyway."

"I wasn't intending to kill her," said Hermione. "I was only going to—"

"It doesn't matter. The second she realized that she was losing, she would have killed Mum. I know it." Hermione wanted to kick herself for forgetting Narcissa's condition. She had been so angry that she had forgotten that they couldn't take action against Bellatrix, not until something had been done to nullify the spell on Narcissa.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but her apology received no answer.

Draco bent down and gingerly picked his mother up. "Do you know the counter?"

Hermione shook her head sadly no. "I don't. I'm not sure if there is one."

"There has to be," said Draco. "There's always a counter out there. One can always reverse magic. Always. I'm taking her to St. Mungo's to see what they can do." Hermione bit her tongue as he left her. It wouldn't do to remind him that not all magic could be reverse.

After all, no one had ever found out how to reverse the results of _Avada Kedavra_.

**Author's note:** That seems like a good place to break off. I hope you liked this chapter and I'd love to hear what you thought in a review. I'd also like to thank **Rebeca**, **danielerin**, **Excalibur's Zone** (except Hermione wouldn't cause mass destruction unless you _really_ upset her), **alyssa-farrell**, **foxxglove** , **Sarah Levana**, **Star19**, **Shawn Pickett** (and Hermione's work problems give him all the more reason to be happy with his decision), **Sarmi**, **rochele-88**, **thyme**, **Izabel**, **Scarlet Emma** (right now, all men get on Hermione's nerves), **KrystyWroth **(yes, starting another fic isn't a sterling example of sanity), **ravn** (this one isn't anything like Charming), **Bulma Queen of Saiya-jin**, **Darkness's Angel**, **malu** (yes, the boys have no clue what she really does), **Annison**, **nienie** (this isn't on hold, it's just hard to write so many fics at once), **Zekintha**, **Avelynn Tame** (this fic isn't primarily a romance but there will be some later), and **Roan **for their reviews of the last chapter. I really appreciated you taking the time to let me know what you thought of the start of this fic.


	3. Chapter Three

**Calamity Jane**  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.

**Chapter Three**

Hermione yawned as she walked through the door of her flat. It had been a tiring day. After Draco had left, she had sent in a report to Moody before continuing on to hide her parents. She didn't know if Bellatrix would target them, as Bellatrix's enmity did not seem to primarily be directed against her, but she wasn't going to risk it. She had quietly explained to her parents the situation and after much arguing, had managed to convince them to take a vacation from their practice. Goodness knew that they deserved it in any case.

She met Harry as he was leaving. "Bad day?" he asked.

"You know what happened."

"Not the details, but I can guess it's not good." He glanced over at her. "You haven't eaten all day, have you?"

"Haven't had the chance," she admitted.

"Then how about going with me? I'm about to head over to Luna's, as she and Ron invited me over. I know they won't mind if you drop by as well."

"Thanks for the offer, but I think what I really need is sleep," Hermione replied.

"Yes, but only after you eat." He looked at her entreatingly, his eyes large and pleading. "Please. For my sake, if nothing else. Don't make me play the third wheel again."

"You could always invite someone else," she pointed out. "Ron wouldn't mind if you took Ginny along," she said and instantly regretted it for Harry's mood had darkened.

"No," he said simply. Hermione didn't know what Ginny had done at Hogwarts to make Harry hate her so, but it couldn't be good. He never told her or Ron what had happened that night that Ginny had wound up in the Infirmary, saying that it was all past now, but it was clear that he hadn't forgotten it or forgiven her. Whenever the two of them were invited to the same party or event, Harry always ignored Ginny as if she didn't exist. Ginny, for her part, never bothered to come around to speak with Hermione or Ron when Harry was around. She seemed scared to death of him, which only incited Hermione's curiosity further.

"Okay," she said. "Forget I suggested it."

"I will," Harry said. "And does that mean you'll go with me? So I'll have someone to sympathize with me when those two lovebirds start exchanging glances?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione. "I am very tired. And besides, I have those kittens to look after." She sighed. "I don't want to leave them in the company of Crookshanks for too long, as you know he'll be a bad influence on them."

Harry grinned. "I remember a time when your cat could do no wrong."

"That was back when there were no female cats around for him to pursue. Aside from Mrs. Norris."

"And McGonagall, don't forget. But to get back on topic, Ron's taken the kittens over to Luna's. Said something about wanting to soften Luna up to them."

"Good. That means that there's nothing separating me and a nice, long soak in the bath—"

"Except for the fact that you feel too guilty to sentence your best friend to a night of dealing with Ron and Luna alone."

"I do?"

"You do if you have a heart," said Harry.

"Since when did I have one?"

"Come on, Hermione, enough with the teasing. Let's get ready to go."

"You're presuming that I will, Harry," Hermione said. She tried to make her way past him, so she could sit down in the living room, but he wouldn't let her. She thought of forcing her way by, but thought the better of it. Even if he had suspicions about her, there was no need to go and confirm them like that.

"Please, Hermione?" Harry begged, his green eyes wide and innocent. "We hardly spend any time together, all three of us, as it is."

"Yeah I know." That was one of the bad things about growing older. You got your own lives and started to go your separate ways. You really had to work when it came to keeping your friendships, and though the Trio tried, they never were able to spend as much time together as they liked. That was one of the reasons that they decided to move in together, and that did help, but not as much as they had thought.

"Okay. I'll go," said Hermione. "But I'm not going to spend the entire evening, glued to the tellie like last time. I have to be in bed by ten."

"Deal," Harry said. "I'll drag you away myself if it gets past ten."

"Thanks. Now would you mind if I go and change? I've been running around in these clothes all day, and I doubt I'm pleasant to be around." Harry stepped aside, and Hermione hurried into her room, gathering a change of clothes. Wishing she had more time, she took a quick shower and then got dressed, applying a drying charm to her hair. When she came out into the living room again, Harry was waiting for her.

"It always amazes me how quickly you can change," he said when he saw her.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I guess I'm too used to witches who say they'll be ready in five minutes, but aren't done until an hour later."

Hermione laughed. "Well, I am sure they look better than me—"

"No. That's not true."

"—And that their hair isn't a complete disaster like mine," she finished, gathering said hair into a bun.

"Your hair is nice too," Harry loyally put in.

"Yes, when I spend hours and hours on it. But I have a life. No time to do that. And I thought we were leaving? Weren't you supposed to be there by now?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to be there about ten minutes ago, but I'm bringing you along. That ought to make up for it."

"An ulterior motive for inviting me along?" she asked, with a small pout on her lips.

"Hardly. I told you my motive." He looked at her sweetly. "From you, I have nothing to hide." Hermione was tempted to ask him about Ginny to see if that statement was true, but she knew better. Harry had plenty of secrets. But he didn't ask about hers, so she left his alone.

When they arrived outside Luna's flat, the smell of burnt water pervaded the air. Hermione gagged and promptly buried her nose into her scarf. She didn't know whose fault it was, but it smelled as though there wasn't going to be any dinner there that night.

"Hullo Harry," Ron said as he opened the door. "And Hermione too! What a surprise. You're off early tonight."

"What do you mean I'm off early?" Hermione asked. "I've already worked over ten hours."

"I thought you'd be later, considering everything." Hermione gave him a sharp look at that remark. It sounded as though he knew something. When Hermione glanced at Harry and saw his guilty expression, she sighed. Harry must have told Ron too.

"I hope this stays between the three of us," she said pointedly. "I don't know the whole world knowing about this morning's incident," she said with a nod at the kitchen.

"I know that, Hermione Granger." Luna came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of lasagna. "If I heard it from anywhere else, it'd be in the _Quibbler_, but I'm not going to betray your trust in your friends like that." She placed the tray on the table in front of the sofa and motioned for everyone to sit down. "I thought we could eat here tonight. While watching some tellie."

Both Harry and Hermione groaned at those words. It didn't take a genius to know what they would be watching. Harry had often remarked that introducing Ron to Muggle television had been a bad idea, because that had led to Luna learning about it. Hermione was inclined to agree. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if they had kept to British sitcoms, but unfortunately, Luna had soon been reeled in by American shows. One specific American show to be exact.

Though Hermione couldn't whinge about it to the boys. The one try she had done that, they had exchanged one glance and told her to shut it, because they had caught her staring at Duchovny. That must have been the most embarrassing ten minutes in her entire life. Since then, she had learned to keep her mouth shut and just enjoy the pretty whenever the program was on at Luna's. Though pretty wasn't the best word to use in this instance. Maybe ruggedly handsome.

"Merlin!" Ron said, through a large bite of lasagna. "We're not even five minutes in, and already the girls are fascinated. What is it about this show that women find so interesting?"

"Two words, Ron, and they both begin with a 'd,'" said Harry.

"You like David Duchovny?" asked Luna, blinking at Hermione in surprise. "I didn't think you were the type."

"Huh? What?" Hermione asked. She hadn't been keeping track of the conversation, being lost in thought.

Ron snorted. "Like isn't the word I'd use. Fancy is more appropriate but I think that—"

"Bloody well enthralled hits closest to the mark," Harry finished, sending both of them into gales of laughter.

"He is very handsome," Luna agreed, which stopped Ron's laughter. "Kind of reminds me of Harry here, being tall with dark hair." Harry turned red and moved away from Ron, who seemed as though his jealousy had been aroused.

"Hey!" Ron protested. "What about me?"

Luna regarded him solemnly. "No, Ron. I'm afraid you look nothing like David Duchovny."

"That wasn't what I meant!"

"What did you mean?"

"I mean . . . I mean . . . gah! Here you are, admiring another bloke for being handsome, and you don't even think what—"

"He is very handsome, Ron. That's a fact. No need to deny it." Luna kissed Ron's cheek before he could speak. "But it's you who I love." With that, Ron's foul mood evaporated and a goofy grin covered his face. He leaned forward to kiss Luna, inducing Harry to cover his face with his hands.

"Why me?" Harry asked the room. "A pair of lovebirds to one side of me, while Hermione's off in her own little fantasy world on the other side of me."

"I am not," Hermione said. "I was only being quiet because I didn't want to join the conversation." And also because someone had just appeared on screen, but she wasn't going to say that.

"Like I believe that." Harry paused, before continuing. "But if I can distract you, may I inquire as to how your inquiries are going?"

"Huh? What?" That went over Hermione's head. If the boy wanted her to answer any questions, he was going to have to ask her in plain English.

"Come on, Hermione. Enough of staring at the screen. No wonder why you're no Jane." Harry tutted at her. "I was asking whether you had found any leads on Bellatrix Lestrange."

"She's still out there," Hermione said, her attention now focused firmly on the present instead of what was on screen. "And no, we have no idea where she is at right now."

"So that means there's a chance for a little civilian like me to accidentally stumble upon her?" The look of glee on Harry's face was almost unholy.

"Merlin! Someone up there must hate me!" Ron exclaimed, having torn himself away from Luna when Harry had first mentioned Lestrange. "Why did I have to grow up and be the voice of reason amongst my friends?" he asked the ceiling. "First, Hermione tries to do unconscionable things to her cat, now Harry is proving that he really does have a death wish."

"I'm not about to go out in the middle of the night to hunt her down, Ron," Harry said testily. "But if she comes at me, I'll take the necessary steps to protect myself. And if she tries to hurt anyone I care for . . . well, she'll live to regret it. With an emphasis on live. Death's too easy for the likes of her."

"Good," said Hermione. It would be very bad if anyone killed Lestrange before they work out a counter to the spell on Draco's mother. That was assuming that one could be found, but for his sake, Hermione hoped that he was right. He had already lost his father, and though she didn't like Mrs. Malfoy much, Draco didn't deserve to lose his mum.

Ron looked at her strangely. "I thought you'd be the first one who would be wanting to have a go at her."

"I can't," Hermione said. "Well I can, but she's put Draco's mother under a soul binding spell." The room went deathly quiet, the only noise emanating from the television set.

"That's the darkest of magics," said Ron, breaking the silence.

"I know." Hermione closed her eyes. "And we got there too late to prevent it."

"So what are you going to do about it? You can't stop looking for her," said Ron. "You can't stop looking for her because she's only going to hurt someone else and—"

"I know, Ron," Hermione said, a bit more shrilly than she would have wished. "I know. Draco took his mother to St. Mungo's. Maybe they can find a counter."

"I don't think that's possible," said Harry. "For one, the wizard casting the counter will have to be more powerful than Bellatrix and I don't think there's anyone of that description at St. Mungo's."

"I know that as well. But I . . . well, I do hope they can do something. Otherwise . . ." The room fell silent once again, as they all contemplated what would happen if a counter could not be found.

"I wouldn't wish for anyone to be an orphan. Not even my worst enemy," Harry said after several minutes.

Luna nodded. "It's hard, to lose a parent. At any age. I know."

"It's hard to lose any family," Ron said. "I should know. When I think of Bill and—" Ron stopped, too choked up to continue that thought. "Give Malfoy our condolences, Hermione," he said. Her other two friends nodded.

"I will," she said. Hermione held in a sigh. She had been so lucky. Everyone else had lost someone. Ron had lost his brothers. Luna had lost her father, who had died trying to save her. Harry had lost the most of all – his parents were dead, Sirius was dead, and even Hagrid was dead. It made Hermione feel guilty for coming out virtually unscathed. It made her feel even more guilty for being so affected by their experiences during their Hogwarts years. She didn't have a right to feel as if she had lost a part of herself during those dark years, because she hadn't been through anything like her friends. If anything, she ought to be the happiest of them all, because she didn't lose anyone she loved. That would have made sense, but unfortunately, life often doesn't make much sense.

:&:&:&:&:&:&

"Good morning," Hermione greeted Ron as he entered the kitchen the next morning.

"Good morning, Her—" Ron stopped to gape at the scene. Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee and looking as though she were in a good mood. All of these were facts he could accept. What he couldn't wrap his mind around was the fact that Hermione was up so damn early. "Okay," he said. "I know Luna's told me about this. Alien invader, right? You've come down and taken control of Hermione's body?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hardly," she said. "And please don't tell me that Luna is writing another article on that subject."

"No, she's not. Not at the moment, to be more precise." Ron plopped down and eyed Hermione's toast. He pointed to it. "Are you going to eat that?" Hermione looked at him before slowly stuffing another bite into her mouth. "Okay, I guess that answers my question. I had thought you subsided on coffee alone."

"Normally perhaps, but it's not every morning when I get an owl at six from my damned boss telling me that there's going to be a department meeting at eight o'clock sharp."

"Ah. So that's why you're—"

"Merlin! Is the world ending?" Harry asked, as he entered the kitchen, pretending to be horrified. "Hermione is actually up this early?"

"It gets worse, mate," said Ron. "She was up before either of us."

"Damn. So how much time do you think we have left?"

"Maybe a week at the outside."

Hermione set down her mug with a loud thud, glaring at her two roommates. Why was it again that she agreed to share a flat with a pair of boys? Surely, someone must have warned her that men never really grow up. She glared at them. "Maybe five minutes if you don't stop with the bad jokes," she said threateningly. "And I've been up before you other times as well."

"Yes, but only when you had to do so for work," said Harry.

"Give the boy a prize. He got it in one," Hermione said. "And I better get going. I want to speak with Draco before that meeting starts." She pushed her plate with its remaining piece of toast at Ron. "And you can have the rest."

"Oh, can I? Can I really?" Ron nodded eagerly, testing Hermione's temper again and making her wonder why she ever had regretted being an only child when she had a friend like him to be her little brother. Of course, he was older than her but he never acted like it. Even Harry sometimes acted as a big brother to her, as annoying as that was, but Ron had always seemed younger than her.

Unfortunately, Hermione arrived only minutes before the meeting started, having been delayed by her flatmates. She craned her neck, as she entered the crowded room, and swore silently to herself. It was no use. There was no way she was going to find him in this mess, though his blond head should stick out. She gritted her teeth together, her face full of impatience, and other Aurors began to give her a wide berth—or as wide as they could afford to in a room with so many people—as they recognized that expression as meaning no good for whoever crossed it. That allowed Hermione to snag a chair before the meeting truly began.

Like all of Moody's briefings, he began with a rant against the Ministry of Magic. Hermione rolled her eyes and promptly tuned him out. It was ridiculous. Moody wasn't going to find an Auror who disagreed with the idea that it was bloody stupid to continue using Azkaban as a prison. Given how easily Death Eaters were broken out of there during the way, it was like locking them up in their own homes and then handing over the key. But the Ministry was too strapped for cash to build a new one. Any proposal to do that would be met with public outcry, and vicious references to how the Ministry was proposing to start charging fees for a magical education, while spending money on those who did not deserve it. As much as Hermione hated the situation, she didn't see how ranting about it was going to change a thing.

After approximately twenty minutes of Moody snarling and spitting about the incompetents heading the Ministry these days, he finally turned to the matter at hand. "Now, this is strictly confidential," the wizard spat out. He turned his glare amongst those sitting in the room, examining each and every one of them to see if there was anyone likely to squeal. "If the press gets word of this, I swear I will find the leak . . . and trust me, you will not like what I will do to you." He stopped in the dead center of the room, leaving Hermione to idly wonder if he had ever taken any acting classes. He certainly knew how to garner the most attention from any given scenario. Clenching his fists to his side, Moody went on to say, "It is my extreme displeasure to inform you all that Bellatrix Lestrange escaped from Azkaban yesterday."

Immediately, the room exploded in a flurry of whispers as people exchanged comments with those sitting around them. Bellatrix Lestrange was supposed to be under the strictest regime, never being left alone with less than two guards. There was supposed to be no way that she could escape. Looking back, Hermione thought that such proclamations should have been a warning that Lestrange would eventually find her way out.

"Enough!" Moody slammed his fist against the podium. "You've had enough time to babble amongst yourselves. Did any of you come up with any ideas on how to trap her?" He glared at the room. "No? Well, it figures." He began pacing again. "Then let me lay some ground rules for you. First, no one goes after her alone. And I mean no one." He fixed Hermione with his gaze, not leaving off until she slightly nodded her head. "Good. Turns out that Lestrange managed to kill both her guards will making her escape, because one of them had to visit the loo." Moody's voice dripped with scorn, but Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for the guards. Sure, it was a damn stupid thing to do and it was ignoring orders to boot, but both of them had paid the ultimate price for their stupidity.

"Second," Moody continued, "and most importantly, I might add, is that you should cast to kill. None of these silly disarming spells. She's too dangerous for that. You disarm her, she'll just find another way to get you back. So we won't give her that chance. She can't hurt anybody if she's dead." Hermione bit her lip. Malfoy wasn't going to like that. And who would? His mother's life was in the hands of that madwomen, who was about to have every single Auror in Britain after her.

"Finally, no one goes after Lestrange unless I tell them too," said Moody. "I don't need any of you mucking up my plans to trap her. If I find out that any of you have been disobeying orders, you'll wish that she got to you first. That's it. Meeting dismissed." Without pausing to take any of the questions people had for him, Moody whirled around and stomped out of the room, in a bad mood once again. Though being in a bad mood seemed to be a ground state for him.

The meeting finished, Hermione once again started to search for her partner, asking a few friends if they had seen him and doing her best not to be dragged into any conversations about the current situation. She had no luck. It was impossible to find anyone, and in the end, she settled for leaving the room and hoping that he was back in their office.

Which he was of course, that giant prat. The way he was sitting at his desk, pouring over some report alerted her to the fact that he had been there for some time. "Did you even bother going to the meeting?" she asked with some aspersion.

"Fuck no. I already knew what Moody was going to say," he replied. He looked up at her. "I'm surprised that you went. I guess you can't shake some of your goody-goody nature still."

"The meeting was supposed to be for everyone, you know," she told him.

"I know." He shrugged and then got up, cracking his knuckles as he stood. "But I thought it'd be better if I wasn't there. Because I knew that I'd get the urge to kill that bastard who likes to masquerade as our boss."

"Have you heard?"

"Yeah. I have." Draco's face became an unreadable mask, devoid of all emotion.

"Draco, I'm sorry that—"

"Save it," he snapped. "Give me the courtesy of not lying at least. I know you'll have no problems following orders. At least one of us can do that."

Hermione fumed. She knew he had the right to be mad at her after the events of yesterday, but to imply that she'd use an Unforgivable was rather unforgivable itself. "Since when have I used those spells?" she snarled.

"Just because you haven't yet doesn't mean you won't make a special exception for Aunt Bella. Hell! I'd make an exception for Aunt Bella if Mum wasn't . . . ."

"Draco," said Hermione. She sighed and walked over to him, patting his back to comfort him. "I was rather surprised that Moody gave that order," she confessed. "Considering that would be sentencing a civilian to death."

He snorted. "I'm not. To Moody, Mum's just another Death Eater who has yet to be caught red-handed. He probably was jumping up and down with excitement when I told him. Two Death Eaters at the price of one."

There wasn't much Hermione could say to that. Moody probably did have that reaction. "Did the mediwizards at St. Mungo's have any idea on how to reverse the spell?" she asked.

"No. They agreed with you in that there is no way to reverse it." Draco grimaced. "What a lovely family I have! Makes me wonder why I haven't offed myself out of sheer unworthiness yet!"

"Draco!" Hermione reprimanded him. "Don't say such things! There's always hope." She paused, wishing that she had been gifted with knowing how to say things well. "And we might be the ones to catch her. You know, I wouldn't risk your mum's life—"

"Like you didn't yesterday?" Draco put in.

"I said I'm sorry about that. I wasn't thinking, just reacting to that bitch's insults. I know I shouldn't make mistakes like that and . . . well, I won't next time. But as I was saying, maybe we'd be the ones to catch her and we can convince her not to take your mum out some way or the other."

"Please. That's not going to happen. Even assuming that Moody would assign us to the case—and he won't, or at least, not me—Aunt Bella has never been one to listen to reason. She probably figures she's doing Mum a favor with killing her, so she won't have to live with the shame of having a blood traitor for a son like me." Draco stalked towards the door, retrieving his cloak on his way from where it hung, and Hermione had to turn around to continue facing him. "But enough. This day has been bad enough, and I don't need to linger on why. I've a lead I want to check up on before hitting the papers again. Those notes that those rookies took were worth shit."

"I know," said Hermione. "I'll be dragging them along with me when I go so I can show them how to properly research something."

"Better you than me," said Draco. He stopped right at the door and turned around. "By the way, don't forget those lessons tonight."

"Lessons?"

"For your guns," he said. "I signed you up for them, remember?"

"Oh." Hermione's face scrunched up. "Good timing, that. I think I'm busy tonight."

Her partner glowered at her. "Don't miss them. They might one day save your life." Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "I'm serious here, Hermione. You said you were sorry about yesterday? Well fine. If you're really sorry, you'll do this for me. It's not as if I ask you for much anyway." With that, he left the room, leaving Hermione alone. She stood there for a moment before going to her desk. She had a lot to do today, especially if she was going to make it to those lessons this evening.

**Author's note:** That's all there is for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and will consider leaving a review to let me know what you thought of it. I'd also like to thank everyone who left a review for the last one: **Shawn Pickett** (well, there are some things that I have to leave out of the fic,because they really wouldn't advance the plot at all and would take too much space. But for Harry's talk with the Magpies security -- it was interesting, I'm sure), **danielerin** (yes, this sort of Hermione is fun to write and read, when I find fics with her in it ), **lynnjoe14**, **Yoshida Megumi** (thanks -- there's been some update on that here, but nothing good I'm afraid), **Amynoelle**, **juliet's rose**, **Lucy** (thanks), **Leah6**,** Zekintha** (sorry, I've not see that movie. That basic idea, however, goes back a long way in the fantasy genre as the first time I know of it being written was in the Deryni novels by Katherine Kurtz, which I believe was written in the late seventies. I've modified it though, to fit plot purposes ), **KrystyWroth** (Moody means it, and Hermione, for all her complaints, likes her job too much to risk it and Draco knows it would be hard for him to find another, given his family's reputation), **Bulma Queen of Saiya-jin** (I hope you like this chapter as well), **BabyGooGoo2**(am glad you think so), and **Erin04 **(I'm afraid this update has taken longer than it should have, but with any luck, the next one will be up in a couple of weeks). Thanks so much for the reviews on this fic. It's one of my favorites, and it's very good to know that there are others out there who like it. So I really can't say how much I appreciate the reviews. Thanks!


	4. Chapter Four

**Calamity Jane**  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.

**Chapter Four**

Hermione returned home that evening to a darkened flat, which wasn't usual but then it wasn't unheard of as well. She missed them all the same. Normally, one of them would be back by now, and she knew she could count on them to have dinner ready. No matter how annoying Harry and Ron could be at times, they were good about that. Though that wasn't really saying enough about them, for they were better than that. Before they had all moved in together, Hermione had been a little wary of the plan, having heard from her parents how friendships could be lost when friends became flatmates. But the transition was smooth, with all of them working together to make things easier on one another.

She tossed her cloak and bag on the couch, walking in to the kitchen to view the boys' schedules on the wall. Harry had a night game today, and Hermione would lay even odds on Ron being there as well to watch. She sighed to herself. As she grew older, it seemed that she was missing more and more of Harry and Ron's games—and she hated that. They had both told her that they understood that her work didn't allow her to keep normal hours, but Hermione knew they both looked forward to seeing her at their games. Hermione checked the basket on the kitchen counter, to see if there was a ticket there so she could rush over to the stadium to attend. It would be an hour into the match—assuming that Harry hadn't already caught the snitch—but it was better than not going at all. However, all she found was a note from Harry.

Hermione—

_Don't bother coming to the game. I know you must be exhausted, so relax instead. Though Ron's right. If I tell you that, you'll just be stubborn and come anyway. So I'll play it safe and take the ticket with me so you can't come._

_And if you get hacked off at that, just remember it was Ron's idea, not mine. So you know who to get mad at. Mind you, it's not that I'm scared of you or any rot like that, but I wouldn't want Ron to be upset at my taking credit for his brilliant idea. That's all._

_Yours,_

Harry

Hermione shook her head at the note. It was sweet of the two of them to think of her like that, but she wished they hadn't done that. She was a big girl, who could take care of herself. Goodness knew she certainly did that day in and day out at her job. Yeah, Draco was there to back her up, but when spells started flying, ultimately, you could only rely upon yourself to save your own skin.

Still, it made her feel happy inside to know that they cared for her like that. And she never got that long soak she so desperately needed yesterday – not between spending too much time at Luna's and that meeting the first thing this morning. Hermione decided to not get upset about it and make it up to Harry later, as best she could.

Humming under her breath, Hermione made her way to her room, slipping out of her bra along the way. The biggest downside to living with her best friends were all the embarrassing glimpses they had managed to catch of each other over the years. While other witches might have wondered about it incessantly, Hermione honestly didn't give a damn whether Harry wore boxers or briefs – she just wanted him to wear something so she didn't have to get an eyeful of his family jewels. Though she missed them, it was nice to have the flat to herself, so she didn't have to worry about covering up all the time. It was much more relaxing to go straight to the bath wearing only a robe, rather than having to strip in the bathroom. Hermione knew there was no chance that Harry and Ron would return any time soon – even if Harry had ended the game already, that would signal either a night of celebrating or a night of commiserating between the two of them. She snorted to herself. She supposed she should just be thankful for her privacy and for the fact that the two of them would regret it tomorrow.

Having thrown her clothes into a messy heap on her bedroom floor while shrugging on a robe, Hermione returned to the bath. She turned the water as hot as it would go and placed a charm on it so it would stay that way. There was little use in being a witch if you couldn't make sure that you never ran out of hot water. She laced the water with her favorite scents and bath salts as the water tumbled in. Once the tub was filled, she slowly stepped in, the water sloshing a little over the sides of the tub and on to the floor, where she had forgotten to put a towel. A little annoyed with herself, Hermione summoned a towel to the spot before settling into her bath. She tilted her head back, leaning it against the tub, and closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth of the water seeping into her and it felt like heaven. The scent of vanilla was soothing, and she felt like she could float away. How long she lounged there, she did not know, but she stayed there until her hands and feet were wrinkled from length of her bath.

Sighing slightly to herself, Hermione rose from her bath, taking care not to drip on the floor, though she wasn't entirely successful in that. She returned to her bedroom, after slipping her robe back on, to pull on a jumper and a pair of old jeans. That done, she took her wand and levitated her clothes off of the floor and into her laundry basket. It was beginning to look a bit full, and Hermione made a mental note to get off her arse and finally wash her clothes this weekend. Though how she would manage that with everything else that would be going on, she did not know.

But that wasn't of the utmost importance at the moment. What was, was finding a spot of dinner. Hermione trailed her way into the kitchen, gaining a following of Crookshanks and a couple of his kittens as she walked through the flat. She blatantly ignored them, knowing that her flatmates wouldn't have left without feeding the cats. They were just being greedy and looking for another meal, while she had yet to have one. Opening the fridge, she broke out into a grin as she spotted a pizza box. _Success!_ she thought. _And here I was, expecting that it'd take me longer to find something._

But upon opening the box, Hermione gagged. Clearly this pizza had been sitting in the fridge for a very long time. It was surprising that it hadn't grown legs and begun to move around, terrifying the cats. Hermione smiled to herself as she imagined the Evil Pizza Monster chasing Crookshanks and the kittens around. Though that was more like something that would come out of the _Quibbler_, with the now obligatory reference to how the author believed that aliens had set the Evil Pizza Monster among us.

She chucked the box away, shaking her head and swearing under her breath. She would have to have another little chat with the boys for not cleaning out the fridge. Hermione would do it now herself, but now was her time to relax. She knew that she was hardly likely to get more time like this over the weekend, and so she was making good on it. Deciding the fridge was a lost cause, she shut it and turned to the cabinets, where she spotted a tin of tuna. Hermione checked to see if there was any decent bread—which there was—and went back to the fridge to take a couple things out so she could start on making tuna sandwiches.

The sound of the tins being opened attracted an audience to her. Hermione rolled her eyes and waved the bread knife she was using threateningly at Crookshanks, but it didn't seem to have an effect. It didn't matter though. This was her dinner and the cats were not getting any of it. She plated her food, put everything else back where it belonged, and then took her plate out of the kitchen and into the living room. Hermione settled on to the couch, turning on the tellie so she could watch it as she ate. She had just taken a bit from her second sandwich when the doorbell rang.

"Damn," Hermione muttered under her breath. She glared at the cats, who were watching her hopefully. "And seeing that you all are here, I'd better take my food with me." She rose from her seat, wondering who it could be at this hour. She opened the door to see Ginny Weasley standing on the other side.

"Hello," said Ginny. She looked at the plate in Hermione's hand. "Oh my. That looks like a lovely dinner." Ginny peered around Hermione nervously. "Is anyone else there?" she asked.

"Like Harry?" Hermione asked. Ginny immediately leapt back, as though stung. Yet again, Hermione wondered why Harry hated her so much. Yeah, Ginny had become a bit of a slut over the years. She hardly kept any boyfriend for longer than a couple of months, and she slept with them all. Ginny also had a remarkable lack of style. There wasn't much Hermione could say to a girl who was wearing a blaringly-bright purple dress even though she had _red_ hair. Not to mention the fact that the dress was very low cut, doing more than just exposing the curve of Ginny's breasts. That shouldn't matter to Harry, as he had never been interested in Ginny. He tended to go more for brunettes, as his flings with Cho Chang and Padma Patil proved. And come to think of it, he had gone to the Yule Ball with Parvati, Padma's sister, though that hadn't gone so well. So it was a great mystery why Harry hated Ron's little sister so, and Hermione desperately wished she could get someone to tell her why.

Maybe she could pry it out of Ginny tonight. Knowing that she had to speak before Ginny fled from fear, Hermione said, "He's not here and neither is Ron. You could just ask directly next time, you know."

"Oh." Ginny looked down at her feet. "Can I come in? And when do you expect them in?"

"Of course, you can." Hermione stood aside, letting Ginny in. "And I'm afraid I don't know when they'll be back. Harry has a night game"—again there was a flinch on Ginny's part—"and Ron's there to cheer him on."

"I'm surprised that you're not there," Ginny remarked as she followed Hermione into the living room.

"I had to work late," was Hermione's response.

"So did I!" Ginny burst into a flurry of giggles, laughing at some joke that only she knew. "I always work late," she repeated. "It's great fun."

Ignoring that, Hermione waved a hand at the couch and said, "Have a seat." She didn't wait for Ginny to do so before taking a seat herself and returning to her dinner. It wasn't as though Ginny was a proper guest anyway, and Ginny always refused food when you offered it to her. It was though she didn't trust anything in their flat to eat. "So what brings you here?" Hermione asked, in between taking bites of her sandwich.

"I wanted to see Ron." Ginny clasped her hands together. "It's been such a long time since I've last seen him. I bet he still looks good." She tittered. "Good enough to eat, right Hermione?"

"Not interested," said Hermione. "He's too much like my brother for me to imagine something like that. It's the same for you, I'd imagine."

"Oh, I love my brothers. All of them. But I suppose we Weasleys are not your type." Ginny looked down at her hands. "Which is really too bad. As we're all great in bed. I can attest to that. But I suppose Harry's more your type or Malfoy." Ginny frowned. "Though Malfoy was an awful boyfriend. He hardly ever wanted to shag! What sort of man could resist me?" She pouted, making Hermione wince. It only made Ginny look more like a child. And now that Hermione thought about it, the purple dress against the Ginny's delicate skin kind of resembled a giant bruise. And the thought of just how Ginny could attest to her brothers' prowess in bed was quickly pushed to the side as something that Hermione didn't really want to think about.

"I am sure Ron will be sorry that he missed you," Hermione said finally, not wanting to comment on anything else that Ginny had said.

"Of course! Because I'm the best little sister ever!" agreed Ginny enthusiastically.

"Yes, of course," said Hermione.

"Though Ron would never admit that. Sometimes it's enough to make me think that he doesn't trust me."

"I am sure that's not the case."

"Yeah. Harry hasn't managed to turn Ron against me yet," Ginny muttered darkly. She raised her eyes to meet Hermione's, and there was a hint of madness lurking behind them. "He tried, you know. He tried to turn them all against me. But they're my family and blood runs thicker than water . . . ." She licked her lips. "Poor little Potter didn't know that though."

Hermione was taken aback. She didn't know what to say to that. It was clear that whatever had happened between Harry and Ginny, it was part and parcel of her becoming so unhinged. She found herself not wanting to continue this line of conversation, so she changed the subject. "So is there any sort of message that you want to leave for Ron?" she asked.

"Message?" Ginny blinked, looking confused.

"Yes. You did say that you came here to see your brother," Hermione reminded her.

"Oh! I did, didn't I?" Ginny giggled again. It was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves. "I was going to ask if he wanted to eat dinner with me, but he's not here so I can't."

"I see. And you didn't want anything from him?" Hermione couldn't quite keep the disbelief out of her voice. She knew that Ginny only risked visiting their flat to see Ron when there was something she wanted from her brother. Otherwise the ginger witch tended to avoid their place like the plague—or rather, she tended to not to visit because she avoided Harry like he had the plague.

A shifty-eyed look appeared on Ginny's face. "No, there's no particular reason. Can't a loving younger sister visit her big brother?" she asked innocently. "And as you know, I do love my big brother."

Again Hermione didn't like where the conversation was heading. She regretted ever answering the door. "Ron loves you too," she said in a placating tone of voice, "and he would do just about anything to help you."

"Oh! I know! That's why I'm here, you know. I'm getting tired of my latest wizard, and I was hoping Ron would be a dear and chase him off."

Now Hermione's head was beginning to ache with the way Ginny kept changing her story. "I thought there wasn't any reason you wanted to see Ron."

"There isn't. But so long as I'm seeing him, I might as well have him take care of that little problem for me." She leaned closer to Hermione. "Richard was lovely at first, but I'm afraid he's become a bit too clingy. I don't like that in men. Makes me all nauseous and the like. And really his stamina leaves much to be desired." She sighed dreamily. "And I really think Neville would make an ideal boyfriend, don't you think?"

Hermione regarded the other witch with a look of disgust. "I can't say that thought ever crossed my mind," she replied stiffly.

"No? Well you're like that, I guess. Not me. I'm always thinking of who might be good for me." Ginny pouted. "But there's something wrong with every wizard I date! I'm really getting tired of it."

"Maybe someone is trying to tell you something," Hermione suggested.

Ginny cocked her head to the side. "Like what?"

Hermione sighed and massaged her temples. Enough was enough. She didn't feel like dealing with Ginny any longer, and she knew the perfect way to get rid of the other witch. "Oh my! Look at the time! Harry and Ron should be back any minute now. I guess you'll be able to—" Before Hermione could complete her sentence, Ginny had leaped out of her seat.

"Sorry! Have to run! I forgot I had something else to do tonight." Ginny tittered nervously. "Or make that someone else. No need to get up. I know my way out."

After the other witch had left, Hermione got up to check that the door was locked. It was. She knew that it was self-locking, but then it was never a bad thing to make sure that nothing was out of place. She supposed Moody and his paranoia was starting to get to her.

She returned to the sofa. She sat down, tucking her feet underneath her, and finished her sandwich. She hadn't learned anything at all from Ginny's visit—only that the other witch was batshit crazy. She resigned herself to never learning the reason why Harry detested the Weasley witch so. Harry wasn't speaking and neither was Ron. And from what Hermione had gathered tonight, Ginny wasn't to be relied on for any sort of information. That was something she would remember in the future.

**Author's note:** Long time, no update, right? But I have an idea of how I want this fic to end now, so I think I can finish it. Hopefully before I lose track of that idea. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Here's hoping for another chapter before the new year.


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